


I Feel So Cold

by Sixninetween



Category: H20 Delirious, H20 Delirious x Vanoss, Vanlirious, Vanoss x H20 Delirious, VanossGaming (Video Blogging RPF)
Genre: Fanfiction, Gaming, M/M, YouTube
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3317528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sixninetween/pseuds/Sixninetween
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zombies are meant to stay in video games and movies, sometimes television shows if they're good enough. No way are they supposed to be real. But, after a unexpected outbreak, Jonathan and Evan have to adapt to this new kill or be killed situation. All they need to do is get to each other first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stay Warm and Don't Die

The first thought that ran through Evan’s head when he saw Jonathan was oh my god he is the face behind the voice. The second thought was oh my god I am going to die in front of him. 

They were running towards each other now, their legs propelling them forward. Evan was screaming at the top of his lungs, but he didn’t even notice it. All that he could do was panic. Jonathan was screaming to him as well, telling him to run faster, urging him to survive. 

The mob behind Evan was hysteric. Their jaws opened and closed, making a disgusting noise louder than the sound of the screaming and footsteps. Most of them were missing limbs and their skin was actually sloughing off. The only thing that Jonathan could focus on was their mouths. Their bottom jaw actually dislocated to make it easier to take in more food at one time. When they got close to a meal, the instinct to feed took over and the jaw opened up wider than anyone’s should. Does it hurt? Does it feel unbearable to have the corners of their mouths split open and saliva leak out?   
They were closing the gap between them quickly. Evan opened his arms up. He didn’t know why he did. Maybe he wanted to die in his friend’s arms. Maybe he wanted them to die together. 

A few steps away from each other. . . A few steps away from survival. 

48 hours earlier:  
Jonathan was arriving at the airport when he noticed people panicking in the lobby. They were hysteric, running out of the airport doors as fast as they could. He couldn’t see the cause of the chaos for a few moments. Then he saw it. A man, running full speed at a woman, tackled her to the ground and was shoving his face in her stomach as she screamed in horror. At first, Jonathan thought it was an accident. Maybe the man had fallen on her and she screamed on the impact. 

But then he saw the blood. It was pouring from her mouth and her stomach and it was all over the attacker’s mouth. He was frozen in place, paralyzed by fear. He swore he stopped breathing when the man lifted his head from being buried in intestines and chunky, almost black gore. Not only was his face distorted, but his jaw hung open like a dead fish. A red tongue lolled out and licked the corners of its disgusting mouth. And then it released an ungodly scream that sounded part animal. 

Jonathan turned away and ran as fast as he could. His legs were still partly numb for sitting in a seat for what seemed like forever, but the adrenaline woke them up. He threw his body into the doors, pushing them open and booking into the street. Four mini vans rushing out of the parking lot almost killed him, but one ended up running over the cannibalistic monster. Jonathan turned around to glance at the murderer, feeling somewhat wrong to thank god he was dead. The man’s leg was twisted up and a gash ran across his forehead. But, he got up, pushing off the ground with his arms and stepping on the broken leg like he hadn’t been hit by a car. A scream escaped his mouth once again, and Jonathan ran towards the road. 

Once he was on the sidewalk, still half running and half jogging, he took out his phone. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he pleaded. 

"Hey man! Where are you? You're late!" 

“Evan, thank god. Listen to me-” Jonathan panted into the phone, his legs growing painfully tired as he watched all the panic around him grow. Cars slammed into each other and then drove away with dents in their bumpers and doors. People crowded the street with phones to their ears. Some women carried crying children in their arms, afraid that they might get trampled. He kept an eye out for anyone with dislocated bottom jaws or a broken leg. 

“I ordered pizza like an hour ago and he hasn’t even come yet. The delivery service sucks in Canada. I’m warning you to not order any food.” 

“God damn it Evan shut up!” He was growing angry now. Why couldn’t Evan just listen? Couldn’t he hear the cries around him? Jonathan was only a couple towns away from him, but without a car, it would take a while. “Listen to me, there are these things attacking people. I saw a woman get eaten in front of me, and then this monster went after me too. It’s crazy out here and there is no way in hell I am getting in a taxi. People are scared.” He tried to make it sound important, but Evan just chuckled on the other end. 

“You’ve been playing way too many video games. They mess with your brain sometimes. Just calm your shit and get over here, we got games to record.” 

Jonathan stopped walking and stood there for a few moments as he heard a loud alarm. It was quiet at first, but then got louder and louder, almost like a hurricane warning. People screamed and pushed by each other, getting more terrified with each blare. He could hear the alarm coming from the phone as well, meaning it was being sounded all over the place. 

Evan suddenly sounded nervous. “Is this a joke?” 

Jonathan was walking by a television store that had the news playing on each gigantic flat screen. “Turn on the news,” he muttered as he watched along with a few other people.   
A reporter was standing near an open window, holding the microphone close to her face with shaky hands. Her mascara was smeared on tear stained cheeks. 

“We are reporting live from Ontario. An outbreak has been reported in Brantford Airport that ended up with seven fatalities. One of the injured was bitten and has begun to show signs of hypothermia. If you come in contact with any of the infected, please head to the nearest hospital. If that is not an option, call the police, report your situation, and lock yourself indoors.” The news switched to a commercial. 

“Can you make it to my house or do you need me to come pick you up?” Evan asked shakily. 

“There is no way you are getting here with all this panic, I’ll come to you.” Jonathan wanted nothing more than to have Evan come pick him up, but that wasn’t feasible. More cars began to pile up, making long lines of traffic. People ran in between the cars, some jumping over the many hoods. 

Evan bit his nail while looking at the ground. He felt sick. “Okay, don’t die. Just hurry your ass up and I’ll be waiting.” 

“See you then, Vanoss,” Jonathan said with a smile before hanging up the phone. 

He got a text seconds later from Evan with an address: 20 Hilltop Road (: Stay safe Delirious! 

He was somewhat surprised how cheerful Evan seemed, even in this situation. It would take a day or two to get to his house. Plus, Jonathan didn’t have a car to use which of course prolonged the trip. But, if he kept walking without taking too many breaks, maybe it wouldn’t take as long as he thought it would. 

It was getting colder as the sun set, though, and he could have sworn he’d seen a few snowflakes flutter down to the ground. His legs were aching from all the walking and jogging through the city. There were many cars still honking their horns on the street in annoyance. He looked to his left to see a streetlamp flickering, shining briefly on a dark silhouette before it completely went out. People began screaming from across the street and a popping sound made Jonathan’s stomach flip. The streetlamp came on again, revealing another one of those things pinning a little girl to the ground by her head. A woman was screaming at it, hitting it with her purse to try and distract it. It must be her daughter. 

Before he knew it, he was jumping over a red Honda and tackling the monster to the ground. He grabbed a handful of hair, tearing some out in the process, and repeatedly slammed its face into the sidewalk. The girl had crawled out from underneath to run to her mother, her arm bleeding from a bite. His arm was hurting by the time the attacker exhaled its final breath. 

“Don’t come in contact with one of these bitches, huh? Fat chance.”


	2. Supplies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! I absolutely love writing some apocalyptic stories, it gets me so pumped up to watch some old zombie movies or play Xbox and enjoy some BO2 maps! Thank you for all the positive feedback on both of my fanfics (which are both H2OVanoss because I'm shipper trash) and I'll keep updating as soon as I can :D

Hypothermia - a potentially fatal drop in body temperature. It causes confusion, shivering, loss of coordination, a weak pulse, and drowsiness; as well as, if left untreated, death. This is how they die. Their body temperature drops far below ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit, and the person falls to sleep. When they wake up again, they’re starving and undead. All their memories fade away, all the people they’ve loved, just disappear. They know nothing but the urge to feed.

Jonathan likes to think their souls have left their bodies, maybe going to heaven or somewhere else, and left an empty shell behind to roam aimlessly. It would explain why they’re so hungry. For it was an insatiable desire to fill an unoccupied husk that controlled every part of the decaying person.

Believing this made it easier to kill it. The monsters didn’t deserve pronouns, because the skin the soul left behind wasn’t a boy or girl anymore, the thing was simply an _it -_ a nothing. A beast that ate other people in front of their families and never felt full, then went on to bite another human, turning it into one of those things. It took around forty-eight hours after getting bit for the person to fall asleep, then wake up dead.

Jonathan continued down the street, small snowflakes dusting the sidewalk. The city was still in full view behind him, and so were the audible screams. Lights flashed, an apartment building crumbled to the ground after a helicopter trying to take down some of the undead got attacked, and cars beeped their horns. Chaos didn’t seem extreme enough to express the horror of it all.

Two more hours into walking, he got another text from Evan.

E: **You okay?**

J: **Yeah. I’m on my way still, just out of the city.**

E: **How long again?**

J: **Three days maybe, if nothing holds me up. What are you doing?**

E: **They came just in time, by the way. We’re all in the basement.**

Jonathan bit his bottom lip. Imagining everyone in a dark basement didn’t feel entirely safe. No one had any idea if the disease was airborne.

J: **Please be careful**

E: **You too, man**

He shoved his phone back into his pocket, then rubbed his pale hands together. It was absolutely freezing outside. The jeans made his legs itch as it scraped against numb skin, then they began to burn. After another hour, he decided to rest.

“Three days, you can do it. Then, you’ll have someone to help you out. Co-op missions are always better than single player ones,” Jonathan whispered into the cold air, letting his breath create a foggy mist. Grey clouds hid the stars and moon away, making the night seem even bleaker. The only light came from the looming streetlamps that had begun to flicker. Most homes in the Toronto area had already lost power, as well as some parts of the city. It was ironic to see how fast humans could destroy something they created.

An eerie car rolled slowly by Jonathan, stopping completely halfway up the street. The door opened up, and a woman dragged herself from the seat. Her neck was covered with blood and once she fell to the ground, her hand instinctively reached up to cover the wound. Jonathan cautiously began to walk over, careful to not let the rising snow crunch under his feet. “Hey,” he spoke quietly, as if they weren’t alone, “Miss?”

The woman looked over at him, eyes wide as blood dripped from her mouth. She reached up and took a handful of his blue sweatshirt, then pointed towards the car. “Husband bit me,” she choked.

Jonathan’s chest clenched as he turned towards the car, taking the woman’s hand in his. A man sat in the passenger seat, his chest heaving in and out irregularly. A combat pistol quivered in his hand. Blood stained the outside of his mouth. Jonathan clenched the woman’s hand harder, but realized that it had gone limp. She was dead.

It was silent for a few minutes, the only sound being the labored breathing of the man. He kept attempting to lift the pistol up, but seemed too exhausted. On the third attempt, Jonathan saw a deep bite mark on his arm. He obviously wasn’t gone yet, but the disease had spread faster than the usual forty-eight hours the news reporter had announced.

“Can you hear me?” Jonathan asked softly, being careful not to provoke anything.

The man nodded his head in response.

“I see you’ve been bitten. I was wondering if you could tell me when it happened.”

“Afternoon.”

Jonathan averted his eyes to the backseat. An oxygen tank was leaning against a cardboard box, faintly illuminated from the streetlamp above the car. “Are you sick?”

The man turned his head to see the tank, and then looked at Jonathan. “Cystic Fibrosis, actually. You have to-” He looked down at the pistol as tears streamed from his eyes. “Please.”

The combat pistol was spray painted blue with speckles of red blood on it. It felt cold and heavy in Jonathan’s hands. It took one shot to the head to finish the man off, who kept his eyes on his wife the whole time. The situation would most likely traumatize Jonathan for the rest of his life, he decided as he opened the back door of the car. He slid the cardboard box out from underneath the oxygen tank. Inside was a clip-on black gun belt, complete with a gun and mag carrier. Two clips were inside. Next to the belt was an officer badge that looked old. After Jonathan clipped on the belt and holstered the pistol, he placed the badge in the man’s icy hand.

The rising sun burned away the clouds and let some much needed sun warm the Earth. Jonathan had walked several more hours. He saw more cars zoom by him then he could count. One family that rode by was generous enough to hand him a granola bar and two bottles of water. About an hour after that, he saw the same car smashed into a pole. The family inside was dead.

Looking ahead from the gruesome scene, Jonathan saw the first gas station he’d seen since he left the city. Cars were stopped, filling up their tanks quickly, and then leaving without paying. A few families huddled inside the station, talking to one another and letting their children run around. As soon as Jonathan pulled the doors open, the people went silent with the ring of a bell. A mother called her daughter over from getting a drink and quickly pushed the girl behind her. “What do you want?” She asked sternly. “The gas is outside.”

Jonathan nodded his head and let the doors slam behind him, ringing the little bell once again. “I’m not here for gas. I need food.”

A boy tapped on his father’s shoulders, whispering “He has a gun” into his ear.

“I know I do, but this is for protecting people, not hurting them. I just need a few things and I’ll leave. My friend up in Ottawa is waiting for me.”

The woman took a step forward, crossing her arms across her chest. She seemed relieved by Jonathan’s words, and let her guard down. Once she did, the others followed. The children resumed their play, chasing each other around the room while giggling madly. “Ottawa? That’s far from here without a car. Take what you need and put it in the backpack over there. It’s my boy’s Spiderman school bag, but it’ll do fine for carrying around food and some drinks.”

“Thank you so much,” Jonathan said as he picked up the bag. It was red, with Spiderman’s face printed largely on the front. Black webs crawled around its sides, making Jonathan smile to himself as he stuffed a large amount of food inside - cookies, chips, beef jerky, a few candy bars, sunflower seeds, and more snacks. Then, he walked over to the coolers and stuffed as many water bottles as he could into the front pocket of the backpack. “Thank you, stay safe,” he repeated as he walked out the doors.

It actually was warm outside, to Jonathan’s surprise. The snow that had covered the street had long since melted by noon time. Everything seemed normal, even the cars that drove blasted music as they usually did on a Tuesday afternoon.

Bowmanton Road stretched out forever, but the farmland nearby gave Jonathan a sense of calmness for a while. This was, until, he got an unexpected phone call from Evan.

“Hello?” Jonathan answered nervously. He panicked for a few moments until he heard his friend’s voice from the other end.

“Yeah, we kind of have an issue.” Evan sounded out of breath as if he’d been running.

Jonathan stopped walking for a moment. Far up the road, he saw bright orange flames climbing up a telephone pole. He followed the fire’s trail to the source, a bright scorched pickup truck. In front of the burning vehicle was a crowd of the undead. “Okay,” he continued to stare as one of the monsters bit open a body that it had pulled from the truck, “What is it?”

Evan spoke closely into the phone, trying to not let someone around him hear what he was saying. “We’ve been evacuated.”

 

 


End file.
